


He's An Artist

by squidling



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Runaway, please imagine him with a lowkey posh english accent isnt that a nice thought, will add characters as i go along, wonwoos from england to make the journey to france easier for him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-12-30 02:02:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18305924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidling/pseuds/squidling
Summary: Wonwoo is a runaway, hoping to make a new life for himself in Paris. Mingyu thinks he's stupid, and that he's read one too many John Green books. At the end of it all, though, Mingyu thinks Wonwoo is wonderful.





	1. origins

**Author's Note:**

> posting as an attempt to guilt trip me into continuing! this is an au ive been thinking of for a little while so hopefully i do it justice!! also i hope its not too obvious i only used grammarly to proofread this im LAZY  
> enjoy

The sun shone down on a little English village. Not much went on in Hensworth. Flowers grew and the birds sang, children played in the park and some teenagers smoked weed by a river whilst others, like Wonwoo and Soonyoung, lazed around at home or took walks to the library.

The two had lived there since they were born. They went to nursery together and had barely spent a day apart since. Wonwoo knew everything about Soonyoung and Soonyoung knew everything about Wonwoo. It was rare to see one without the other; it was always Wonwoo and Soonyoung, not Wonwoo, not Soonyoung. That was how they liked it. Wonwoo was an awkward introvert. Soonyoung was a bubbly extrovert. Not many could handle Soonyoung, whilst Wonwoo could handle few. No one would expect them to get along, but they did. Neither one of them had another friend. There was nobody in the whole world who could burst their bubble. 

This had always suited Soonyoung. A nice routine, knowing what to expect, a cut out agenda where he always knew what the day would hold. He was more focused on education than dating.

That was one of the biggest differences between the two friends. Wonwoo was a reader. It was him dragging Soonyoung to the library nearly every day because he needed another romance novel to read. Wonwoo dreamed of romance. Once upon a time, he was dragged into Soonyoung’s way of things: get your grades, then your man. But the pair had graduated from university a year ago. Wonwoo wanted love. Not sex, but the kisses and the cuddles he saw in films and read in books. Wonwoo had never kissed anyone before. It seemed nice.

“Penny for them,” Soonyoung nudged him.

“Huh? Oh. Nothing.”

His best friend rolled his eyes. 

Five minutes later they were at the library. That was the great thing about a village; nothing was more than a thirty-minute walk away. It kept the boys fit. Just about. 

“You should get an adventure book this time,” Soonyoung suggested, scanning several spines.

Wonwoo looked at him. “I still have two John Green titles to read.” He was greeted with a groan. 

“They suck!”

“Brilliant romance novels,” the younger smiled, “best of the century.” Soonyoung only rolled his eyes.

Wonwoo’s fingers tickled the spine of each and every title. It took him far too long to choose a book. He would read the blurb a few times, start the book, flick to a middle page to check it gets good, then put it back and do it all again with another one. 

He felt drawn to one book in particular. It had a sapphire cover and gold lettering. As Wonwoo shuffled through the pages, he noticed something stuck within them. He turned back. Back. Too Far. Forward. Next page. There!

Wonwoo pulled out a Polaroid print. It showed a pretty carousel in the corner, but it was overshadowed by far. In the back stood the Eiffel tower. The man’s eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted as he looked at the picture.

“Have you chosen yet?”

“Uh, yeah. One.”

Soonyoung huffed and collapsed in an armchair. His best friend continued his search. Every so often he took out the polaroid photo and ran his thumb over it. This was someone’s memory. Left for a stranger to discover. Wonwoo was intrigued and it was far too long, even on his account, before he settled on a second book.

“Happy?” Soonyoung asked.

Wonwoo nodded with a smile and headed over to the librarian. The librarian was all too familiar now with him, making jokes that he took more time out of his day for fewer books than usual. The boy laughed politely and told her he was almost out of novels to read.

Soonyoung chatted all the way back to Wonwoo’s. It amazed the younger that his best friend always had something to say. How did he not run out? How did he not have to pause for a sip of water every three seconds? It was almost impressive.

“...so anyway, I want five kids.” He finished with a grin.

“Five?”

“Or six!”

Wonwoo nodded and smiled fondly at his friend. “Good luck with your football team.”

Soonyoung continued to ramble, “and what about you? I imagine you want to get married at age 26, have two kids, and become an author.”

The younger of the two friends hummed and took a moment to think about it. What did he want? Wonwoo wasn’t one to think about it. And married by age 26? That gave him four years, and Wonwoo had never had a boyfriend before. But god, would he kill for one…

“Mm. Maybe.”

Wonwoo walked Soonyoung to his apartment before he set off back to his own house. He still lived with his parents, having never found the motivation to look at another place. He didn’t have a job, either, so he wasn’t sure how to even afford his own place. There weren’t many jobs available in a village full of old people.

Back in the cold comfort of his bedroom, Wonwoo pulled out the Paris polaroid and leaned it against his bedside lamp.

The lamp was still on at 3 am, as Wonwoo lay awake. Sleep was beyond him. He stared at the photograph, wondering if there was a reason it came to his hands. One part of his brain told him it was fate. Another part, meanwhile, told him the reason was that he picked up a book. But Wonwoo read far too many romance novels for that. It was fate.

Maybe there was another life waiting for him. One better than this. One in a town of which its sole purpose wasn’t to grow up and die. A lively one, where new friends were awaiting his arrival, love was around the corner, and a new personality associated with the name Jeon Wonwoo.

It was like he was going to kill himself but rise again. Like a phoenix. Wonwoo chuckled at himself, turned his lamp off, turned onto his side and fell into dreams of French romance.


	2. i want to break free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i jammed to billie eilish, christine and the queens, queen, and adele whilst writing this it was a wild one

Wonwoo awoke to a sunny day in Hensworth. He threw on whatever clean clothes he had and travelled downstairs to make himself some cereal. The man was the last one to wake up; his mum was already at work. Wonwoo pulled himself up onto the kitchen counter, which was something his mother would yell at him for, and slowly ate his way through a dry box of Cheerios.

He nearly dropped his meal when a sudden knock at the door forced his bones to jump out of his skin. A key entered the lock. Wonwoo continued eating, knowing it was just Soonyoung.

“Yoohoo!”

“Hiya.”

Soonyoung’s hand reached into the cereal box and he helped himself to Wonwoo’s snack. Cheerios were spilt everywhere in the process. The younger sighed.

The two’s only plan was a day in town, hanging around, maybe go to the park. The same as usual, really. They went to a cute coffee shop and people-watched. They guessed people’s stories, backgrounds, and futures. It was something they had done since they were young.

“She’s going through a breakup,” Wonwoo said, nodding towards a tall girl with messily chopped hair and three-day-old makeup. 

“Or maybe she’s a runaway. She’s pretty grubby.”

Wonwoo hummed. “But who’s going to run to here?”

Soonyoung took a minute to think. He pouted as he did so, as was his habit. “A city kid, I guess. City kids run to the country, country kids run to the city.”

“Do you want to run to the city?” The younger raised his eyebrows. He knew the answer.

“No.” Bingo. “Do you?”

Wonwoo looked his best friend in the eyes. “Nope. Not without you.”

Soonyoung grinned so widely his eyes fell into his cheeks. 

What would Wonwoo do without Soonyoung? There were no memories of his life before him. No one knew Wonwoo like Soonyoung did. No one could put up with the impossible hours of video games he played in a day, or the diversity of his music taste. No one else could happily sit and talk, knowing they wouldn’t even get a response from Wonwoo in a bad mood. Only Soonyoung knew exactly how to cheer him up, or what his favourite song was, favourite book, the secret tattoo he thought about getting, what he did the one time he got drunk or the one night stand he had in the first year of university, for most of which Wonwoo’s memory was hazy, but the few details there were had been loosely recited to Soonyoung and nobody else.

Likewise, Wonwoo knew what no one else did about Soonyoung. His favourite, which was his threat of blackmail whenever the boy got on his nerves, was the time Soonyoung tried to go blonde at home and all that happened was he went ginger.

After coffee, the friends went for a walk along the polo fields. They passed plenty of families who chased their young children or pushed their little ones in prams. Wonwoo smiled at each of them because he knew them - or had at least seen them around at some point. That was the type of village Hensworth was. Everyone knew everyone. It was like a small town from the 1940s.

It had always been this way. Wonwoo sighed internally. He was bored to death of it. Hensworth was a place full of growing families, or elderly couples whose children had long since left the nest. It was a place to grow up and die.

Wonwoo had grown up now. He was twenty-two. Every place he saw on sale, he thought about buying. Just for a change. He was bored of his family home. But above all, he was bored of the country. It had terrible weather, boring people, and he wasn’t ready to die. Wonwoo didn’t want another place here.

He wanted to leave.

No person could ever feel as tired of a place as Wonwoo did. He felt like he needed to break out of this repetitive routine. He despised it. Sure, he would miss Soonyoung - god, would he miss Soonyoung - but the village was murdering him. 

Wonwoo thought of where he could go, and he thought of the polaroid he found in the book. Paris wasn’t far. £80 on the Eurotunnel.

Did he have the guts?

Wonwoo looked at Soonyoung with a sorry look in his eye. When they departed, he gave him a tighter hug than usual.

“See you later,” Soonyoung grinned.

Wonwoo smiled back. It hurt. But he gave his friend a little salute and watched until he had turned around the corner, out of sight. Never to be seen by Wonwoo again.

 

The clock read 01:21. Wonwoo climbed out of his bed and threw on jeans, a t-shirt, and a checked shirt on top. Carefully and thoughtfully, he gathered a couple of things for his backpack: a sweater, extra pairs of boxers, comb, electric razor, sketchpad and some pencils, and his favourite book.

Adrenaline ran through his veins. Was he really doing this?

Wonwoo’s backpack was on his shoulders. He was ready. Silently, he crept out of his room. There was one quick trip to the kitchen for snacks. Not much was taken from the cupboards: Wonwoo had been able to supply himself food-wise in the town. 

His slender fingers shook as he tightly laced his boots. Then he was out of the door. He was on the street, alone, in the dark and in the cold. The man’s stomach was in his throat. It was as if he was running from the police, but all he was running from was his life.

Wonwoo was killing himself, and building himself up again. That thought empowered him, but it didn’t add any spring to his step. 

Tomorrow, Soonyoung was going to wake up and text his best friend. He would happily walk to his friend’s house, hoping to see him, hoping to steal some of his food, as he had done every day for too many years. He would be greeted by an empty house. Soonyoung would shrug, walk to the park nearby, and come back later. Once again, an empty house would greet him, so Soonyoung would walk to the library.

Soonyoung would check every aisle, every seat. Wonwoo wouldn’t be there. So Soonyoung would sit and wait. He would sit and wait for his best friend, his only friend. But Wonwoo wouldn’t return.

Each day, Soonyoung would walk around like a lost puppy. ‘Missing’ posters would soon be up on every wall, every lamp post, every telephone wire, every shop window. 

But Wonwoo was gone.

Soonyoung would pray to a god he didn’t believe in. He would pray for Wonwoo’s health and Wonwoo’s safety. He would pray that his best friend was somewhere out there, alive and happy.

And Soonyoung would cry himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapters but frequent updates as i promised xoxo  
> leave kudos comments whatever ignore if u want do whatever! love u for reading


	3. to my fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took a couple days i uh. had some romantic drama so i focused on that tbh ya girl wants a gf  
> ok here goes

By the time Wonwoo reached Portsmouth he was exhausted. He had called for a cab (it surprised him that they were available at 2 am), the clock read 4AM and his lack of sleep had decided to catch up with him. He was starting to feel uncomfortable about the lack of money he had brought with him, the cab alone had cost a fortune. He currently had £300; all of his savings left from last Christmas, last birthday, money stolen from his mother’s purse, and the little jobs he would do for his neighbours. Most of this had been changed into Euros when Wonwoo had taken a walk the previous evening. The remainder of his English currency was about to be spent on the train.

Wonwoo had no idea how it worked, exactly. He had only done some quick research the night before, when he had been high off the feeling of adventure approaching, and the security he’d had then in his bed. His level of unpreparedness was starting to show through, and he was regretting it. Now the boy sat at his local train station, realising the flaw in his plan of leaving at 2 am. The next train boarded at 5 o'clock; 3 hours from now. The doors were locked, and he was on the streets earlier than expected. 

So Wonwoo pulled out his book and began to read the well-thumbed pages, right from the start.

 

He had fallen asleep by the time someone opened the door to the station. Wonwoo leapt up, feeling more than ready to go. His legs did not agree, and so he stumbled and came close to falling down again.

His passport was checked through, and Wonwoo fell in and out of sleep standing up. For once in his life, his normal, grumpy face became an asset, disguising him as he felt physically out of touch.

Wonwoo was relieved to get on the first train, although he wished he had brought a second book. A part of him also wished he had kidnapped Soonyoung to keep him company. He’d began to miss him when he was cold in the night, and the feeling wasn’t subsiding now. 

The young man spread his long limbs across the two train chairs and wedged his bag behind his head to act as a pillow. He had a short journey ahead of him, but he suspected this would probably be the best quality of sleep he would be getting for a long time.

Wonwoo felt sick. He wasn’t sure if it was dread, excitement, regret, or all three. Maybe it was simply because it was the first time he had ventured away from home without Soonyoung. Wonwoo pinched his hand and sighed. He shouldn’t think of home too often. He didn’t want to regret his choices.

Exhaustion was tempting his eyes closed, but he didn’t feel as though he could sleep. He watched as the train dived into a tunnel forty meters below the sea. It amazed Wonwoo. How was this even possible? Who built this? He thought all the questions Soonyoung would have asked out loud. 

There wasn’t much of a view for most of the journey. Underwater tunnels sounded better than they were: the walls were bleak and grey, lined with lights that only highlighted concrete. 

Underwater made it sound as though it physically ran through the ocean: it did not. Wonwoo was glad he was already aware of this. It saved a possible great disappointment. It was a good thing he didn’t bring Soonyoung, he thought, Soonyoung would’ve been disappointed anyway.

Wonwoo finally fell asleep. His dream was about to begin when he was rudely awakened by the train stopping and people getting off. Suddenly the man felt like he was going to throw up.

The rising sun burned his eyes. People were everywhere, meeting their friends and family, hugging their loved ones who they hadn’t seen for too long. Wonwoo had never felt more alone. Everyone was surrounded by those they adored. Wonwoo himself had never even been to France before. The poor boy had only just realised, surrounded by fast, unintelligible conversations, that he didn’t even speak any French.

And he was still three hours away from Paris.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Another train…”

The signs were, of course, in French, and Wonwoo didn’t understand a thing. He followed a crowd and prayed it would somehow lead him to a train to Paris.

He suddenly saw a platform sign with Gare de Calais-Ville written on it. It was like his life was flashing before his eyes for his laptop screen had appeared in his head, and he remembered seeing something to do with getting a train to there from the Eurotunnel, and this was essentially his ticket to Paris. Wonwoo followed the sign.

Forty minutes later, Wonwoo was breathing a deep sigh of relief. He had made it onto on the train to Paris, and it had only cost about fifteen euros. All in all, he was very proud of himself. That’s what he told himself, anyway.

The truth was, Wonwoo just wanted to be home, safe in his own bed, with Soonyoung rambling by his side. He had wanted to leave, so he did, but he never said it was for forever. Or did he? Wonwoo didn’t know what he wanted anymore. 

He took another nap on the train. He didn’t take up much space since now it was almost 7 and the businessmen and women were on their way to work. Someone next to him stared intensely at her Excel spreadsheet full of words he didn’t understand, while the man opposite was busy typing furiously on his laptop. Usually, Wonwoo would make up a story for each of them, but right now he couldn’t focus on anything besides how tired he was. 

This time he dreamt, and he dreamt of Soonyoung. He dreamt of exploring Paris, reaching the top of the Eiffel tower, having a picnic in the park, with his best friend by his side. He was shocked and disappointed when he woke up without him.

 

Now Wonwoo’s legs were carrying him off the train, and towards his fate. The station was grand, unlike Waterloo in England. Where Waterloo’s walls were grey with sickly lighting, Gare du Nord was golden and aesthetic. The lighting gave him a bronze complexion and highlighted his black hair. He didn’t know it, but despite his tired face, he looked gorgeous. 

Wonwoo carried his backpack in his hand, where he could see it, and walked with confidence he didn’t feel, out of the station and into the French morning air. 

He tried to forget about his best friend and thought instead about-.

“Oh my god,” Wonwoo stopped dead in his tracks, “I can’t believe I’ve run away.”  
The man took a couple of deep breathes - in, and out, in, and out - and continued walking to his destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my apologies if this chapter was boring, im tryna use a bit of slowburn so what else could i do  
> comment, leave kudos, hit up my twts @lcvehan_ n @svtfacts17 whatever lov u thanks for reading

**Author's Note:**

> my chapters will get longer as this goes along - i usually tend to post short chapters, but often, bc short chapters = quicker updates and it all evens out  
> i hope u enjoyed this so far! itll get better and less boring i PROMISE


End file.
